22 June 2001

In the past seven days, every piece of technology I own has given me the finger before committing suicide.

The computer crashed twice.

The phone jack decided to loosen itself from the wall so that the phone cord will not stay in without assistance. When I began poking around with the jack to figure out what was wrong with it, I discovered a small rock lodged inside the jack itself, but pulling the rock out didn't do much for the functioning of the phone line.

I deleted my internet service from my computer, and began using Juno, which decided it didn't want to connect to the internet for more than 45 seconds at a time, and I'm NOT exaggerating.

My Björk tape unravelled all over the floor. I loved that Björk tape. LOVED it. I painstakingly rolled it back up and caressed it until it promised to play again.

And did I mention that, a week ago, during a rather amazing lightning storm, several of my lightbulbs blew out when a trasformer exploded down the street?

NOW, my stupid email account isn't working.

Last night, there was supposed to be a voluntary nationwide blackout to protest George W. Bush's energy policies. I probably would have participated because I don't like Bush, but I CERTAINLY wanted to participate because I'm mad at all the appliances in my apartment.

~H.T.*